


No More Need For Pretence

by minervamoon



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamoon/pseuds/minervamoon
Summary: Crowley watched Aziraphale close the last of the drapes, standing there in only his shirt and trousers, then pad across the carpet on his bare feet.  He felt a swell of contented joy at the sight, at the all of it.  They were here.  It might have taken the whole of their Earthly existence and a near-Apocalypse, but they’d made it.  They were here.  They were safe.  And, most importantly, they were together.“You first, Angel,” said Crowley, patting the chair beside the wine.“Are you sure?” asked Aziraphale as he always did.  “I don’t mind grooming you first.”Unapologetic domestic fluff with a side of emotion.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113
Collections: Holly Jolly July: a Good Omens Gift Exchange





	No More Need For Pretence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pyracantha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/gifts).



> Thanks to the wonderful [chewb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewb/pseuds/chewb) for last minute beta'ing this for me.

Crowley sat the second of the two wooden, straight back chairs down in front of the fireplace. A low fire was crackling away in the hearth to chase away the evening chill. Beside each of the chairs was a small end table moved from their usual places on either end of the couch; the couch itself having been moved to make room for the new setup. On one table sat two wine glasses and a bottle of Aziraphale’s favorite white. On the other were a wide-toothed comb, a soft, boar-bristle brush, and a stack of a few terrycloth hand towels. Crowley looked at the setup and nodded.

“Ready when you are, Angel,” called Crowley as he opened the wine.

“Coming, dear.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale close the last of the drapes, standing there in only his shirt and trousers, then pad across the carpet on his bare feet. He felt a swell of contented joy at the sight, at the all of it. They were here. It might have taken the whole of their Earthly existence and a near-Apocalypse, but they’d made it. They were here. They were safe. And, most importantly, they were together.

“You first, Angel,” said Crowley, patting the chair beside the wine.

“Are you sure?” asked Aziraphale as he always did. “I don’t mind grooming you first.”

“I mind. Sit.” 

Aziraphale gave him a small, amused grin that started Crowley’s heart fluttering all over again. “Afraid you’ll fall asleep again?”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a sneer that he didn’t mean and made Aziraphale chuckle. He had fallen asleep the last time they’d groomed each other’s wings and woken up to find himself laid out on the couch in the bookshop. He’d slept through the grooming and Aziraphale moving him. He wasn’t doing that again. 

He busied himself by checking the equipment one more time while Aziraphale slipped the button-down shirt off his shoulders. He took his time folding it (just to annoy him, Crowley was certain) then he put it over the back of the chair followed by his vest.

Crowley took a hearty sip of his wine as he took in the broad expanse of Aziraphale’s bare back. The slope of his shoulders, the workings of the strong muscles underneath deceivingly soft skin, the roll at his ribcage, and the love handles. Best possible way to describe that bit in Crowley’s opinion. All of it came together and nigh on made it impossible to resist wrapping his arm around the angel. So he did, because he could, and he loved that he could, and he loved that Aziraphale let him, that Aziraphale wanted his touch as much as he wanted to touch.

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hands in his own and Crowley soaked up the warmth of the angel’s body, his chest to Aziraphale’s back, nuzzling his face into the nape of the angel’s neck. Crowley let out a sigh of pure contentment that Aziraphale echoed.

“We can do this later if you’d rather do something _else,_ ” offered Aziraphale, his voice innocent even though the implication was so blatant.

“Who taught you to tempt like that?” murmured Crowley into the crook where his neck and shoulder met.

“Why, you did, love.”

Crowley could feel the workings of his muscles as Aziraphale turned his head. Crowley lifted his and was graced with a tender kiss upon his lips.

“Nope,” husked Crowley. “Was never that good at it.”

“The student has surpassed the master then?”

That surprised a laugh out of Crowley. Then, because there was no reason not to anymore, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Shall we?” asked Aziraphale with a tiny nod towards the bedroom. Crowley rubbed his face into the fine hairs at the back of Aziraphale’s neck and breathed in deeply. 

“Later, unless you don’t want me touching your wings?”

“My love, I adore your touch in any way I can have it.”

Crowley grudgingly let Aziraphale go. “Then sit and let me get my hands on those pretty wings of yours.” He leaned in and kissed between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades, between where his wings would be.

Aziraphale gasped, then shot back, “Wily serpent,” before moving to straddle the chair before him, arms folded on the back. 

One moment Aziraphale’s back was empty, the next white wings existed. No flash of light, no fanfare, just nothing then something. Crowley took the fingers of both hands up the center of Aziraphale’s back, then over the crests of the bends of the wings. Aziraphale groaned happily. He shifted in a restrained version of his happy wiggle. Crowly grinned at the expanse of wing. He took up the wide-toothed comb and ran it gently through the lesser coverts followed by his fingers. He went slowly to revel in the silken feel of the feathers as much as to be careful to not pull on the good feathers as he removed the loose ones. His fingers sank through into the down and he scraped his nails lightly against the skin underneath like he knew Aziraphale liked. The angel made a murmur of pleasure, his wing shivering under Crowley’s touch. Crowley smiled at his back.

Grooming had been his chance to touch Aziraphale and be touched by him in a way that could be allowed. Not by either of their former sides, but by them. It was one of the few ways they could show each other that they did care, in some way, for one another. It wasn’t some brush of hands or pat on a shoulder, something that could be brushed off as play-acting for the humans. This was just them. 

Somewhere halfway through Aziraphale’s left wing, the angel spoke. “I forgot to put on music,” his voice sounding as languid as the relaxed curve of his back.

“Got it covered,” said Crowley. He wiped a hand on his jeans to remove the preening oil and pulled out his phone, casting a playlist to the sound system. Some soft, modern piece of instrumental music wafted on the air. He laid the phone down beside the bottle of wine and got back to work. 

Aziraphale picked up his wine glass. “Remember the time you spilled wine all over my wings?”

Crowley flushed, glad the angel couldn’t see him. “Yeah. That stained them good. How long did it take for the feathers to grow out?”

“Don’t remember. I’m just glad I didn’t need to present my wings while they were.” He paused contemplatively for a moment. “At least none of that matters now.”

“Yeah.” Crowley forced lightness into his voice. He didn’t like the idea of Aziraphale being found wanting, especially over something he’d done. “You could dye them green and _they_ couldn’t say anything about it.”

Aziraphale’s laugh pushed against Crowley’s dark thoughts, forcing them back. “Oh, that could be fun. We should do that sometime.” He caught Crowley’s gaze over his shoulder and grinned. “Though, I think I’d prefer red.”

Warmth radiated from Crowley’s heart and spread outwards making him flush. “How’s that book you’re reading?” asked Crowley to get the conversation on something else. That kept Aziraphale going all through Crowley’s work on his primaries and on to his right wing. 

Crowley lost track of how long he worked. He didn’t care. He could do this for days, he was certain. If he could have gotten away with it before, he would have. There was something almost hypnotic about watching his fingers slide through the white feathers. 

Once he was done with the preening, Crowley wiped the oil from his hands with a towel, and slowly went over both wings with the brush until they were glossy and glowing. His heart ached at being nearly finished.

No, he told himself. There was no reason for that. They didn't have to hide anymore. This wasn't the only time they could touch. To prove it to himself he ran his hand back down the center of Aziraphale's back. He pressed another kiss between those beautiful white wings. Aziraphale arched into the touch and kiss, making soft, pleased noises.

"All done," said Crowley against Aziraphale's skin.

Aziraphale hummed in acknowledgment and stretched his back and wings, looking over his shoulder at them. "Oh my! They're lovely. I think this is the best job you've ever done on them."

Crowley stared at his toes, face burning. "Yeah, well, don't need an excuse anymore."

Aziraphale stood and turned to him, his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry, my dear, I'm not following."

Crowley rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Was his angel really not getting it or just pretending to make him say it out loud? "If I didn't do a good job, you'd need them groomed again sooner."

Aziraphale stared at him while he processed that then frowned. "Damn. Why didn't I think of that?"


End file.
